


Come Away To The Water

by Cristinuke



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forced Orgasm, Gaslighting, HYDRA Trash Party, Hurt/Comfort, Improper Use of the Winter Soldier, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-14 14:58:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8018509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cristinuke/pseuds/Cristinuke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brock Rumlow discovers a neat trick the Winter Soldier can do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Away To The Water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nonymos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonymos/gifts).



> This is for Nonymos who deserves nice things. 
> 
> I borrowed Carl Westfahl from [Dira Sudis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsudis/pseuds/Dira%20Sudis). What a lovely character.

"How the _hell_ can he _do_ that?" Rumlow asked incredulously.

The doctor looked at him shrewdly, expression flat and annoyed as if he was only barely putting up with him. "When he was in the custody of the Russians, they decided it was the best way to maintain his body in equilibrium. It was cheaper and safer than chemically castrating him, at the time, and it turned out to have the unexpected bonus of becoming a very effective reinforcement to willingly go into the cryo-chamber at the end of his missions. Simply put, it rendered him more docile and less aggressive, so it's been continued."

The doctor let out a long sigh that was bordering on insubordination. He turned his attention back to the Winter Soldier, who was strapped in his wiping chair. They'd just completed a wipe, and the doctor needed to get this pre-cryo report done before Rumlow could go on to debrief Pierce on the mission. The doctor was unlacing the Soldier's pants, when Rumlow interrupted, asking, "So what, you just jerk him off and tell him to come, and he does?"

If looks could kill, Rumlow would be terrified. But as it were, Rumlow stared down at the younger guy until he spoke, "With a little bit more finesse, but yes. We set up this machine," he gestured to a clear tube with a longer, thinner tube running out of it, which was hanging on a stand next to the chair, "put it over his penis, begin the suction process until he engorges enough, and then order him to ejaculate. He then does so, we collect the semen for research purposes, and he gets put away." With a gloved hand, the doctor pulled out the Winter Soldier's flaccid cock and held it firmly while he reached for the tube. Rumlow could now see where the penis was supposed to go, as soon as the doctor brought it down and started pushing the Soldier’s penis into the tube.

The Winter Soldier did nothing. He simply stared down at the doctor with a mild look on his face as he let his body be manipulated and controlled. Rumlow thought he looked like a doll. A doll that could kill without a trace if ordered. And who could apparently come to orgasm immediately if ordered, as well.

With his cock stuffed into the tube as much as it could fit, the doctor turned on the machine at the end of the thinner tube that connected the tube to the box. Straight away, a rhythmic sucking noise started up, and Rumlow watched as the tube began to move up and down on the Soldier's cock. The sudden pressure on his cock made the Soldier gasp and turn his attention down to his groin with a puzzled expression.

The doctor did something, and the suction noises grew louder, faster and more obscene. The tube was pumping up and down so hard that it was threatening to slip off, so the doctor reached over and held it in place, looking bored as he did so.

Rumlow watched at the Winter Soldier's cock started to harden inside the sucking tube. It only took a few more moments before he was fully erect inside the sleeve, and before Rumlow knew it, the doctor ordered, "Soldier, come."

Immediately, the Soldier cried out softly and his hips tried to jackknife off his seat, but he was prevented from doing so by the straps that held him down. The suction noises suddenly grew wet and gross with the new burst of semen that filled the sleeve. The doctor kept the tube on him, letting the machine milk the Soldier for a few long moments until he started trembling and a moan escaped his mouth. That was when the doctor finally shut off the machine.

The Soldier slumped in his chair, eyes glazed over, and Rumlow wondered how much pleasure he'd actually gotten out of this whole thing.

That was one way to take care of an asset, for sure.

As the doctor carefully pulled the tube off of the Soldier’s penis, Rumlow couldn't help but wonder, "So what, anyone can order him to come? That seems like it could be a potentially dangerous thing if a target said the wrong thing at the wrong time."

The doctor shot Rumlow a scathing look before going back to collecting the Winter Soldier's semen in a test tube and hanging the equipment back up on its stand. "That would be why it only works if one of his superiors ordered him. Now, could you please unbuckle him and take him back to his chamber?" The doctor pointedly faced away from Rumlow and sat down in his chair to fill out his report. "I'll have this done by the time he's put away and you can go back to wherever you go where I don't have to see you."

"Aw, and here I thought you were my Valentine." Rumlow snickered at the irritated huff the doctor gave. He turned his attention to the Soldier, who was still limp in his chair, staring at nothing in particular. For all the doctor claimed that the Soldier was less violent now than before, the doctor had clearly handed over the task of having to get close enough to unbuckle the asset with the possible risk of getting brutally attacked easily enough.

But apparently the risks were low, today, because the Soldier made no move towards Rumlow as soon as he was free. It just took one hand gripping a forearm (the flesh one, Rumlow wasn't about to touch the metal one, docile or not) and a low order of, "Stand and follow," and the Soldier dutifully stood up and let Rumlow lead him down the hall to where the cryo-chambers were stored.

Another doctor was milling around the cryo-chamber when they approached, and he wasted no time on formalities before he was taking the Soldier from Rumlow and directing him to step into an opened chamber. The Soldier looked back at Rumlow for a moment, and Rumlow was surprised by the confused and almost-scared look he gave him. Rumlow didn't know what to do, so he just nodded and then the door to the chamber was closed. Through a very tiny window on the door, Rumlow watched as the Winter Soldier's nervous expression smoothed out into a blank canvas as frost creeped up all around him.

"That will be all, sir." The doctor said to him, signing off on a clipboard and handing it to Rumlow.

"It's nice to see some people around here still know who's boss." Rumlow commented, taking the clipboard from the man.

"Sir?" The doctor asked, looking confused but unwilling to continue a conversation with him.

"Never mind." With that, Rumlow tucked the clipboard under his arm and walked back out into the hallway. He just had to get the report from the other, rude doctor, and he would be done in just a few more hours.

That was what Rumlow thought about as he tried to ignore his aching cock pressing against his tactical pants.

*

Rumlow drew the short stick again, and had to deliver the Winter Soldier back to medical after their next mission, but instead of feeling the usual trepidation of having to deal with the assassin, Rumlow felt a bit of excited curiosity. The memory of last time was still fresh in his mind.

It did not disappoint him to see the Winter Soldier strapped to the chair, still reeling from his most recent wipe, and forced into what Rumlow figured out was a milking machine. Rumlow was drawn to the scene before him, unable to look away as the Soldier looked softly confused at the way his genitals were manipulated and eventually ordered to orgasm. He couldn’t help staring as the orgasm was prolonged while the doctor finished filling out a form, distractedly holding the tube over the Soldier’s cock until a sharp whimper shook him out of his focus. The doctor looked mildly annoyed, as if the Soldier crying out in overstimulation was an awful distraction, and Rumlow had to discreetly shift his pants to relieve some of the pressure building up.

When the doctor waved a dismissive hand, Rumlow didn’t care as much, untying the Soldier from the chair. He was mellow and limp, leaning on Rumlow in what he almost wanted to call a trusting move. The Soldier clung to Rumlow the whole walk to the cryo-tank, and when another doctor maneuvered him inside the tank, Rumlow caught another one of those odd looks from the Soldier, -such a contrast to his usual intimidating demeanor.

Rumlow didn’t have to stay and watch the ice envelop the Soldier, or oversee the way they put the tank away.

He didn’t have to, but he sure as hell wanted to.

His orgasm hit him fast and intense in the shower afterwards.

*

The next couple of missions, Rumlow volunteered to take the short stick and grab the report at the end of the missions.

“I don’t know why you want to risk your life, but don’t let me stop you.” Rollins told him after one particularly grueling mission in the swamps of the Deep South. Everyone was grouchy, and nobody wanted to deal with the Soldier who had gotten the worst of it, covered in slime and mud and blood, among actual bits of brain matter from his targets. He smelled horrendously.

But Rumlow hadn’t cared.

Each time he got to see the Soldier forced to have an orgasm he didn’t want or knew was happening, just stoked a fire brighter inside of Rumlow, until it got to the point where Rumlow actually started looking forward to the end of their missions.

The other members of Strike noticed, of course, but nobody dared say anything about Rumlow’s sudden interest, too relieved to not have to deal with the Soldier longer than what was required.

He never let it interfere with the missions, of course. He still had a job to do, and he still had to make sure the Winter Soldier followed orders while on the ground, and completed their directives. But it made Rumlow feel privately possessive, it he was being honest with himself. None of the others seem to know what medical made the Soldier do at the end of the missions. It felt like a secret, almost, that only Rumlow was privileged enough to know about. He was the only one to witness those vulnerable moments of weakness, and it that knowledge made him feel powerful.

It made him feel so powerful, that he fucked up after a mission and slipped one day.

They were in a quinjet, coming back to base, and Rumlow was still trying to figure out whose fault it was that tipped off their target and made the whole mission harder than it should have been. They caught and killed the guy, but holy shit was it extra work that Rumlow hadn’t been expecting. The Winter Soldier was actually pacing up and down the aisles, working off some extra adrenaline or something.

“Rollins, you were at Location B, but you had to switch to D when Westfahl got made, does that mean,-”

“Hey!” Rumlow got rudely interrupted, “It wasn’t me! I was right where I was supposed to be! Cylon Toaster over here-”

“Westfahl, shut the fuck up.” Rumlow growled, bringing a hand up to his throbbing temple. His fingers came away wet with blood, and he sighed to himself. He hated missions where he had to unexpectedly get up and personal with his targets and do hand-to-hand. It always meant clean-up would take longer.

The Soldier paced by him again, which prompted him to say, “The Winter Soldier had his orders, and he followed them, effectively taking out the-”

“Yeah, because Rollins fucked up!” Westfahl interrupted _again_. Unfortunately, before Rumlow could take control of the conversation again, Murphy jumped on the bandwagon of insults that Rollins and Westfahl started, and soon the sound of angry arguing voices filled the space.

The Soldier paced in front of Rumlow again, and this time Rumlow caught the subtle movements of his team shying away from him each time he passed them. For some reason that just pissed him off.

“Shut the fuck up, ladies.” Rumlow growled, and everyone quieted down. The Soldier turned to make another pass, and that seemed to be the last straw for Rumlow.

As soon as he was in front of him, Rumlow barked out, “And for fuck’s sake, stop moving, Soldier!”

The Winter Soldier immediately froze and about turned, standing at attention in front of Rumlow, staring steadfastly ahead in one of his creepy postures that Rumlow had mentally nicknamed as his ‘Stand-By Mode.’

Without thinking, the order slipped out of Rumlow’s mouth: “Kneel.”

He didn’t know why he said it, but before he could begin to regret it, the Winter Soldier dropped like a stone onto his knees with no finesse, and crossed his arms behind his back, bowing his neck and going completely still.

The entire quinjet went dead silent.

All eyes immediately focused so hard on Rumlow that he felt like he was about to be drilled with holes, but he was too desperate to try and regain control of the situation that he tried to ignore them. It didn’t quite work.

“Holy shit, Brock.” Murphy whispered.

Rumlow looked up and saw everyone’s shocked faces, and then looked back to the Soldier, who was still kneeling perfectly right at Rumlow’s feet.

“How’d you get him to that?” Westfahl asked, his eyes nearly bugging out.

That’s when it finally clicked in Rumlow’s head; the Winter Soldier obeyed his orders because he was his superior.

How the fuck had he not realized that? The Soldier always followed his orders out in the field, so why wouldn’t he obey him outside of it?

Technically, all of them were his superiors.

Rumlow didn’t realize he started reaching his hand out to touch the Soldier until Rollins called out warily, “Brock, you sure you wanna do that?”

That snapped Rumlow back to reality and looked around at everyone’s surprised and concerned faces. Murphy even looked like he was about to draw his gun.

With a sudden surge of confidence, Rumlow attempted to placate his team with a calming hand, signaling them to wait, and with his other, he slowly reached out and carefully placed his hand on top of the Soldier’s head.

Nobody breathed.

When the Soldier didn’t murder him, much less react, Rumlow kept going, and started petting his hair, until he was basically smoothing out the unruly mess of tangles.

That garnered him a reaction. Just not the one he’d been expecting.

The Winter Soldier arched up into the contact, as if silently begging for more.

“Look at me.” Rumlow ordered lowly. His voice carried above the quiet rumble of the quinjet.

Instantly, the Soldier craned his neck up and looked at Rumlow, avoiding direct eye contact as per usual.

“I said, _look at me_.” Rumlow growled and gripped his hair tightly with his fingers.

The Soldier snapped his eyes up to Rumlow and held the gaze unwaveringly. He had been wearing his usual full-face mask today, but he’d taken off his goggles when they’d finished their mission. He still had on his muzzle, as the team liked to call it, and Rumlow decided that it really brought out the blue of his eyes. He ignored the tension running through the assassin in front of him.

“Good boy.” Rumlow praised, ignoring someone’s sucked in breath in favor of bringing his other hand up to lightly trace the edges of the mask. Careful to be soft, he rubbed his thumb against the skin, and let his other hand relax to lazily tangle his fingers in the Soldier’s hair, idly scratching at the scalp.

The Soldier did a full-bodied shiver, and Rumlow, surprised, looked down and immediately saw that the Winter Soldier was hard. The bulge in his tactical pants was definitely not a weapon, and a glance to his face immediately tipped Rumlow off to the fact that the Soldier had absolutely no idea of how to control himself in this situation.

His eyes were completely wide and his pupils dilated, and despite never breaking his hold on his knees, it was painfully obvious that the Soldier had no fucking clue what was going on right now, much less what was going on with his body. He was beyond confused, and yet he was following Rumlow’s orders to the letter.

When Rumlow looked up again at his team and saw the variety of hungry and curious expressions on their faces, a terrible idea quickly formed in his head. A mental voice was telling him to stop while he was ahead, to go back to protocol, but he stamped it down, figuring he’d already gone off the reservation here. He might as well see it through.

“Wanna see a magic trick?” He asked his team.

Every single member of Strike nodded hesitantly, and it was enough of a reason for Rumlow to turn back to the Soldier, tighten his grip and clearly order with as much authority he could muster, “Soldier, come.”

The Winter Soldier complied immediately, making a soft, hurt noise that got muffled behind the mask.

He also turned his face into Rumlow’s hand, looking for affection, and Rumlow could swear the expression on his face was one of lost confusion, as if he had no idea why he was doing that. Rumlow didn’t know what to do but give in, and he swiped his thumb under the Soldier’s eye. The tension that had been thrumming through the Soldier’s body eased off rapidly, making him nearly curl into Rumlow. He was breathing hard under his mask, and he still never broke his order of direct eye contact with Rumlow.

Then somebody started laughing.

It was a nervous laughter that quickly became contagious, everyone joining in, before changing into a delighted tone, everyone impressed with the trick.

“What the actual fuck, Rumlow? That was incredible!” Rollins said, clapping Rumlow on the shoulder in congratulations.

“I didn’t know he could do that!” Murphy exclaimed, looking delighted and amazed. Everyone else quickly joined in to give their congratulations and acclamations to Rumlow, which he took all in gracefully, one hand still buried in the Soldier’s hair, while his other absently caressed his face. He realized he himself was slightly hard, swept away with all the excitement and adrenaline, but he ignored it.

They still had a couple of hours left in their flight, but suddenly everyone was relaxed and unhurried to get home. Rumlow ordered the Soldier to clean himself up, and when he came back from the bathroom, Rumlow ordered him back on his knees in front of him. The Soldier complied with every order perfectly, and took up the most beautiful posture on his knees. Rumlow had had a lot of women on their knees for him, but he couldn’t help thinking that none of them had ever had the deadly grace of the Winter Soldier.

He even took savage pleasure in the fact that the Soldier was kneeling on the grated steel floor.

When they landed, Rumlow personally escorted the Soldier down to the labs, waving off the wary doctors that usually collected the Soldier after their missions. They seemed too relieved to argue, and simply disappeared.

Rumlow took up what had become his usual spot in the lab, and settled in to watch the way the Soldier was stripped of his armor and strapped into the chair. When the wiping machine started up and the Soldier started screaming, Rumlow felt his cock twitch again. Rumlow didn’t know if it was because he was actually paying attention today, but it seemed to him that the Soldier’s cries of agony seemed to last a little longer today.

When the machine finished up, the Soldier was panting and twitching, and Rumlow decided he liked that image. A lot.

The doctor placed the milking machine on the Soldier and started it up, sucking sounds drowning out the weak, shuddering gasps of the Soldier.

This time, however, when the oblivious doctor ordered to the Soldier to come, the Soldier locked eyes with Rumlow and stared at him the entire time, breathing roughly in contrast to the curious look on his face.

*

The next mission the Soldier was unfrozen for, he looked like he didn’t recognize Rumlow or anyone on the team, as per usual. That didn’t deter Rumlow, however, and he decided to play with him anyway, carefully touching him carelessly throughout the briefing, and then more often than necessary on the ride to Bogota to deal with a coup. Something about tipping the right side in their favor. Hail Hydra and all that.

It was interesting to see the way the Soldier’s facial expressions grew less and less blank, after the successful mission, when Rumlow praised him for a job well done. He also offered a few more casual touches, a hand on his forearm here, a bump against his shoulder there. Definitely way more purposeful touches than before when they’d all stay a healthy space away from the Soldier.

As soon as they were on the plane ride home and he looked around to make sure everyone was accounted for, Rumlow ordered the Soldier on his knees in front of him again. This time, everyone almost crowded in closer, watching avidly the scene before them.

Rumlow petted him again, touching him kindly and giving him praise for a job well done.

“You completed your objectives, Soldier. You really are the fist of Hydra. You make us all proud.” Rumlow was never particularly patriotic to Hydra, but it never hurt to remind everyone that he was loyal. Especially when he heard a couple of people in the back rattle off the slogan.

“You did well, Soldier.” Rumlow continued, wanting to see how far he could chip away at the Soldier’s stoic demeanor today. He was already getting there simply by scratching his head, and watching the silent way the Soldier subtly arched up into the touch. The Soldier had been ordered to take off his entire face protection, showing off his full expression. Rumlow thought he liked this way better, as he could see the micro-expressions that flitted across the Soldier’s face. It made it even sweeter, knowing that the usually in-control Soldier couldn’t actually control his expressions when it came to this.

Plus, watching the way his cheeks flushed and his full lips part just slightly was a sight for sore eyes.

After a few minutes of keeping up the gentle handling, Rumlow glanced down to see that the Soldier was hard.

“Hmm, like that, Soldier?” Rumlow asked rhetorically. He shifted his weight a little and using the top of his boot, he slid his foot between the Soldier’s legs to nestle up against his crotch. The Soldier startled before regaining control of his body and forcing himself to stay still again, but Rumlow didn’t like that, pressing a little harder just to watch the Soldier react all over again. He played lazily, alternating between running his fingers through his hair and against his face, and rolling his foot against his bulging crotch.

On one particular roll, Rumlow ordered, “Soldier, come.”

The Winter Soldier froze, every muscle tensing up with his orgasm, and finally let out a steadying breath, settling his weight on his knees again, and subsequently shoving his dampening crotch on top of Rumlow’s boot.

Rumlow _tsked_ and said mock-reprimanding, “No one likes it when you dirty up other people’s property. You don’t see us getting mud and shit on your stuff. Clean up.”

The Soldier moved to get up, presumably to get a towel, but Rumlow stopped him.

“With your mouth, please.”

Rumlow felt everyone watching intently, realizing this was the best in-flight entertainment anyone could ask for. It was so worth it to watch the way the Soldier slowly lowered himself down, bending over to bring his mouth to Rumlow’s boot. Rumlow could only feel a slight pressure as the Soldier’s tongue lapped up at the slight dampness that had transferred from his pants to the boot.

In no time at all, the Soldier rolled back up into his perfect kneeling posture, and received an actual ovation from the other members of the team.

“Can he do that more than once?” A voice carried over the general merriment. Rumlow’s first instinct was to punch the owner of that voice, belonging to one Carl Westfahl, but then the words sunk in, and the curiosity that filled the plane was nearly tangible.

“Let’s find out.” Rumlow declared, since he didn’t actually know the answer to that. He’d only ever seen the doctors order the Soldier one orgasm per ‘session.’

Rumlow buried his hand in the Soldier’s hair again, and tugged his head back so that the Soldier’s eyes landed on Rumlows’. His face was open and expectant, ready to follow any order asked of him.

Rumlow gladly provided.

“Soldier, come.”

The asset’s mouth slid open in surprise, slack and wet, and he doubled over, shaking as his hips twitched forward. His orgasm clearly took him by surprise and lasted much longer than the first, slumping completely against Rumlow’s thigh when he’d calmed down. Rumlow tipped his head back, and smiled smugly at the dazed look on the Soldier’s face.

“Good boy.” Rumlow whispered as he petted the Soldier as one would a prized dog.

When Rumlow brought the Soldier back to the lab and went through the whole process again, Rumlow was vaguely surprised to see the Soldier shaking hard by the time his ordered orgasm ended. He was doubled over as much as the chair would allow, and his panting took on a more urgent beat. The doctor’s eyebrow’s furrowed in confusion when he saw the Soldier react like that, but before he could voice any of his concerns, Rumlow came over and helped the Soldier out of the chair.

Rumlow ended up nearly dragging the Soldier, he was so weak. But like every time before, the Soldier let himself be led right back to his cage without a fuss.

*

After that, Rumlow didn’t hesitate to escalate things. Primarily, make things way more sexual. Call him drunk on power, but the feeling of having that level of control over the Winter Soldier was the most intoxicating thing Rumlow had ever experienced.

The fact that everyone only encouraged him, made things much simpler. Despite the obvious evidence of a tamed asset, everyone was still too cautious to do anything more than watch. But they certainly excelled at that.

Rumlow of course, always took the lead with anything having to do with the Soldier, and after one particularly successful mission, he was feeling quite magnanimous, infecting everyone else until they had each voluntarily said one positive thing to the Soldier.

The Soldier was practically basking in all of the attention, heedless of the fact that he was kneeling on the most uncomfortable floor possible for too long. But he didn’t seem to mind, and Rumlow certainly didn’t care, so when Rumlow’s pants started feeling too tight, it seemed almost like a natural course of action to unzip and free himself.

“Keep your left hand down.” Rumlow ordered, anticipating that the Soldier might need to use his hands, but not daring to deal with that deadly metal weapon. The Soldier brought his metal hand down and gripped the grates as if to ground himself. He then looked up, neither worried nor eager, but merely expectant of orders to tell him what to do.

He dutifully set to the task as soon as Rumlow told him to blow him.

And fuck it all, why hadn’t they been doing this from the beginning? The Soldier could give _head_.

“Fuuuuck,” Rumlow groaned out as the Soldier licked around him before swallowing him whole. His throat was impossibly tight, and Rumlow nearly ended it all too soon when the Soldier swallowed.

“That looks fucking hot, Brock.” Rollins breathed out, his hand pressing down on his own bulging erection.

“He sucks better than a bitch.” Rumlow announced, and he heard some appreciative groans from the peanut gallery. He thought he heard the dry slide of someone jacking off in the back, but the next time the Soldier pulled off to work the cock head, Rumlow forgot everything and focused on what was in front of him.

It didn’t take much longer than the Soldier swallowing him whole again before Rumlow shot a full load down his throat. He still had his fingers in the Soldier’s hair and he kept him down, waiting until his cock went limp before letting himself slip out of the Soldier’s mouth.

“Good boy,” Rumlow praised the panting asset. “ _Such_ a good boy.” He gently led the Soldier’s head to rest against his thigh, and the Soldier’s expression softened with the praise.

“Not only that, but you’re _my_ good boy, aren’t you?” Rumlow growled fiercely, moving his hand out of his hair to slide down and grip his throat lightly. The Soldier’s eyes opened wide and stared straight back at Rumlow. Rumlow grinned wickedly, letting his voice grow even more possessive, “That’s right, you know that, don’t you? You’re _mine_. You belong to _me_. Now _come_.”

The Soldier did, looking up at Rumlow with those huge eyes that shuttered closed against the pleasure.

*

It wasn’t long before Rumlow started noticing in his reports that the Asset was performing better, with more precision and dedication than ever before. The reports, of course, claimed that their Fist was doing better simply because of Hydra. That was it. Just because he was Hydra.

But Rumlow knew better.

He didn’t say anything, of course, but he did preen and accept the general praise that trickled down from the higher-ups who were pleased by all the successes of the Strike teams. In particular, Rumlow’s team, that worked primarily with the Soldier.

They even got a commendation from Alexander Pierce himself. That got everyone talking and boosting confidences.

What Rumlow left out of his reports, however, were the facts that the Soldier had begun to stay close Rumlow during missions, and tended to cover the other members of the Strike Team even when it wasn’t necessarily his directive to do so.

He left out the fact that he had been making a point to be there each time the Soldier got defrosted and briefed, as well as every time a mission ended and he had to be put back into the cryo-tank.

He also left out the part where he became dedicated to touching the Soldier at every opportunity he got, making sure to imprint himself on the Soldier whenever possible. The Soldier wasn’t let out as often as the Strike Team went on missions, but every time they got aid in the shape of the Winter Soldier, they made sure to take as much advantage as possible.

Especially when the other members of Strike started to get curious, their own erections going unattended for far too long.

The Soldier was kneeling in front of Rumlow in what had come to be his usual spot on the way home from missions. His mask and goggles had been put aside already, and his usually messy hair was falling into his eyes. Rollins had taken up to always sit on the right of Rumlow, and Murphy always on the left. Everyone else had silently figured out their place in the hierarchy and sat accordingly, ever the respectful audience. But today was a special day.

“Rollins,” Rumlow began, turning to face his friend, “You really outdid yourself today.” Rollins ducked his head in mock modest fashion, obviously pleased with himself and the praise from his team leader.

“Seriously. I think you actually outperformed our little Soldier here. Don’t you think that deserves some kind of reward?” Rumlow smiled, showing all of his teeth, and the expressions on everyone’s face turned into an excited and apprehensive mix. Rollins was no exception.

“Sir?” Rollins asked, tentative to ask for more clarification.

Rumlow just grinned wider at his unease and then clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, relax, I’m not going to fuck with you today. Seriously, you deserve something good. And I’m going to give it to you.”

He clicked his fingers, getting the attention of the Winter Soldier at his feet, and cheerfully ordered, “Soldier, be so kind as to suck off Agent Rollins. He’s in dire need of a good time right now.”

The Soldier turned his blank gaze to Rollins and began to crawl over to kneel in front of the other agent.

“Oh, and keep that left hand down.” Rumlow told him as an afterthought. The one time he forgot to tell him that, the Soldier had nearly touched his cock with it, and Rumlow just about had a heart attack.

Rollins already had his cock out, and as soon as the Soldier heard his commands, he dutifully went to work. And if the sudden enthusiastic groans coming out of Rollins were anything to go by, he wasn’t shirking his responsibilities on the other agent.

Rumlow watched, proud of his asset as he sucked and licked and thoroughly drove Rollins out of his mind with what looked to be the best blowjob of his life. He wondered who taught the Soldier to suck so well, if that had been a Red Room thing, or if someone had taught him before the Russians had found him. Or maybe he had always had a particular affinity to it, who the fuck knew?

The Soldier finished Rollins off and then knelt back patiently awaiting any new instructions. While Rollins put himself away, one of the guys from the other side of the quinjet asked out loud, “I wonder if he’s ever been fucked before?”

Rumlow snapped his gaze up and landed on the speaker, Anderson. The man was usually very quiet, but he got the job done. And now his question piqued everyone’s interest. He could almost make out everyone’s growing erections straining against their tactical pants.

The entire atmosphere grew predatory and if everyone hadn’t been sitting down already, Rumlow would have sworn they’d have started to circle and stalk their prey. But the Soldier was _his_. And just one look at the others reestablished his command as everyone backed off slightly.

“Soldier.” Rumlow caught the asset’s attention. “Strip.”

Without a trace of hesitation, the Soldier began to methodically undo every strap of his armor, piling everything under the seats in a neat and organized manner. He didn’t stop until he was completely naked and kneeling again in his spot.

“Murphy, I’d say you did a pretty good job out there today as well, wouldn’t you?” Rumlow smirked, eyes never leaving the Soldier.

“I did just recently pass my 100th confirmed kill.” Murphy offered, looking torn between proud and hopeful.

“Ah, well. In that case, you definitely should get a prize. Soldier, suck him off too.” Rumlow could barely leave out the glee in his voice. “And keep that hand down.”

Murphy was quick to free himself, and soon the Soldier was on him.

Except this time, Rumlow shifted around to throw his jacket on the floor and kneel behind the Soldier. One hand sunk into his hair and forced him down further on Murphy while his other hand explored the naked expanse of skin suddenly available.  His fingers skimmed along tough muscle and spidery scars, raising goosebumps in their wake. He stayed clear of the area where the Soldier’s metal arm fused with his flesh, not tempted at all to satiate any curiosity surrounding that particular juncture. Instead, he used the pads of his fingers to alternate between lightly touching and pressing into the muscle to see the way his flesh gave way under pressure.

Then the Soldier moaned.

Everyone froze. The Soldier was generally quiet whenever he was with them, only ever speaking to acknowledge an order in the field or whenever he needed something mission-related that hadn’t yet been provided. And he had never made a single sound during their little trips back to base.

Until now.

Rumlow shook off his amazement and began again, letting his fingers trail down and pressing in at random until he earned _another_ moan from the asset. When Rumlow started to lift his fingers this time, the Soldier arched up as if to chase the touch. He was still performing wonderfully if Murphy’s bitten-off throat noises were anything to go by, but he was definitely seeking Rumlow’s fingers.

So he gave them to him. He let go of the Soldier’s hair, and used both hands to drag blunt nails down the Soldier’s back.

He had never seen anything so seductive as the way the Soldier writhed exquisitely, moaning gutturally while he choked himself down on Murphy’s cock.

Rumlow then spread out his fingers and rubbed down with his palms, covering the faint red lines he’d just made. The Soldier bowed his back upwards, and Rumlow just grabbed onto his sides, lightly pushing him back down. The Soldier went down with ease, but he shivered with every gentle touch Rumlow made.

And then Rollins joined in.

Rumlow raised an eyebrow, but when he saw the way the Soldier stuttered in his body, he realized that this was about to get better and he was really interested in watching this play out.

“Do that again.” Rumlow told Rollins. Rollins smirked and put his hands back on the Soldier’s shoulders only to dig in with his fingers, massaging into the tense muscle.

The Soldier let out a plaintive whimper as he tried to arch into that touch while at the same time trying to stay in touch with Rumlow’s hands on his lower back. It was as if he didn’t know which hand he wanted to feel more, almost at war with himself.

“Murphy, get in the game.” Rumlow ordered, and Murphy, who had been looking as if he was in the best porno ever, quickly caught on and sank both hands into the Soldier’s hair, taking control of how to work his cock. The Soldier shifted onto his hands and knees, and someone whistled at the way he presented himself.

Rumlow felt someone bump into him and when he saw who it was, he gave a wink and a beckoning hand. Anderson grinned and walked around to the back of the Soldier, bringing his hands down to squeeze his ass, making the Soldier startle and moan even louder than before.

Between Murphy gripping his hair, Rollins and Anderson massaging his shoulders and ass respectively, and Rumlow still tracing patterns into his back, the Soldier was quickly turning into a writhing mess. He took on an almost desperate approach to letting Murphy fuck his throat, and soon Murphy let out a silent groan as he obviously came. The Soldier swallowed everything and even licked up the drops he missed. After that, Murphy simply guided him to rest against his inner thigh, and then there was nothing for the Soldier to do but feel every hand on him, pulling beautiful sounds out of him. His arms started shaking with the stress of keeping himself up, and Rumlow had to suppress the urge to lick him.

The only ones not touching the Soldier, Thompson and Westfahl, had their dicks in their hands, and awe in their eyes as they watched the Soldier’s reactions grow more and more frenzied until he was actually wheezing against Murphy’s crotch.

On a whim, Rumlow reached around and found that the Soldier was not only hard as a rock, but actively _dripping_ onto the floor. As soon as he touched his cock, the Soldier let out a full-body spasm with a muffled cry, and suddenly went down.

“What the..?” Rollins breathed, hands up as if to prove he didn’t shove the Soldier down. But it wasn’t necessary because Rumlow realized that the Soldier fell down because his arms had failed him.

Both of his arms.

“I thought his left arm was supposed to be…?” Murphy trailed off, hands relaxing in the Soldier’s hair to pet him. The Soldier’s shaking grew worse, as if expecting punishment, and Rumlow didn’t like that, so he crouched down to rub his hands down the Soldier’s back, smoothing out the tremors that appeared. The Soldier’s panting was still erratic, but he figured it was probably from being so overstimulated.

Rumlow was about to respond to Murphy when Westfahl spoke up from the back, “Can I fuck him?”

Without a beat, Rumlow rounded up on Westfahl and threatened, “You touch him and you’ll be holding your cock in your hand by itself.”

Westfahl backed off immediately while Rumlow declared, “I’ll fuck him first.”

Rollins and Anderson both backed away a bit, but Murphy still carded his fingers through the Soldier’s hair, a soft, satisfied smile on his face when the Soldier cuddled closer against his thigh, like a dog begging for a scratch.

Rumlow couldn’t help his own grin as he positioned himself behind the Soldier, gripping his hips with both hands to pull him onto his lap. The Soldier scrabbled to hold the awkward position, his head supported by Murphy’s lap, while his lower half was supported in Rumlow’s, but he quickly figured it out.

It wasn’t as if they carried lube around everywhere they went, so Rumlow slicked up his fingers with some spit and then went to work, spreading the Soldier’s ass apart and teasing the fluttering rim first. The Soldier was trembling non-stop as the muscles in his legs and ass tensed and relaxed alternatively. He whimpered again, so sweetly, when Rumlow spat onto his hole and barely pressed the pad of his finger against it. He held it there for a moment, feeling the way his hole contracted and released and enjoying the anticipation lacing every curve of the Soldier. The Soldier had progressed from his panting to sharp gasps, and the next time his hole relaxed for a second, Rumlow finally pushed his finger in.

The sound that came out of the Soldier made Thompson behind them groan and give out a shuddering breath. Rumlow didn’t even roll his eyes at the man’s orgasm because he honestly couldn’t blame the guy. The Soldier really was that pornographic.

Rumlow focused on the task at hand, literally, enthralled by the way the Soldier’s tight heat would swallow up his finger despite the obvious burn it caused. He took his time opening up the asset, half for the entertainment, and half because he didn’t want it to be over too quickly, and needed the time to calm himself down. The way the Soldier kept making such gorgeous sounds made it worth the wait, especially when he started to try and cut himself off, offering up the sweetest whines he then tried to muffle into Murphy’s pants.

After a few more globs of saliva went into the quivering asshole, Rumlow had managed to fit two fingers into the tight heat, working on three. As soon as it slipped in past the tight ring of muscle, Rumlow took his fingers out and wiped them on the Soldier’s calf before rearranging the Soldier on his hands and knees again.

Rumlow had a mind of drawing everything out more, or teasing the Soldier with his cock, slap him on his ass or something, but as soon as he gripped those hips and lined up, he couldn’t stop himself from pushing into that inviting hole.

The Soldier actually wailed when Rumlow bottomed out; a long, drawn-out and hungry wail. Using his grip on his hair, Murphy turned the Soldier’s face to the side so everyone could see the way the asset had bitten his lips red, making them inflamed and pouty. Murphy let one hand go of his hair only to offer his fingers to the Soldier’s mouth, who immediately took them in and started sucking. Rumlow groaned and dragged his cock back out only to drive right back in, pushing the air right out of the asset’s lungs in a gasp. And really, seeing his face grow slack with pleasure while he still tried to draw fingers into his mouth shouldn’t have been that hot, but holy shit did it get Rumlow going.

The pace that Rumlow set was quick, and the sound of flesh smacking against flesh permeated the plane, drowning out the smooth slide of the others jacking off. All the while, the Soldier kept right on making those gorgeous and helpless sounds, honestly sounding better than any porno Rumlow had ever seen. It was fucking ridiculous.

Rumlow changed his grip for a moment, and noticed with pride the marks he’d left, but before he could really admire them, someone asked in a strained voice, “Brock, can I come on him?”

Rumlow looked up and saw Rollins, cock hard again and in his hand. His fingers were curled loosely at the base as if trying to stave off an orgasm.

“Go ahead,” Rumlow assented, liking the mental image of the Soldier dirtied, “but watch it. Don’t you dare get any on me.”

Rollins beamed like it was Christmas, and started pumping his cock, moving to the side so that he could aim right onto the Soldier’s back. In no time at all, Rollins grunted and came, spurting hot white come across broad shoulders. The Soldier shivered and renewed his drive to fellate Murphy’s fingers. Rumlow kept right on fucking him.

Barely a few breaths passed before another breathy voice spoke up.

“Sir, can I come on the asset too?” A quick glance showed it was Thompson who’d asked, and Rumlow really wanted to see him add to the collection, so he waved him forward.

Thompson came.

And then Anderson.

And then Westfahl.

All of their combined come dripped and slid off of the Soldier, making a horrible mosaic of pearly white on his back. Some of it even started to dry quickly, leaving behind a flaky residue that couldn’t have possibly felt good as it pulled at the skin. And yet, the Soldier kept on moaning like a bitch in heat.

With the idea of the entire team marking up the Winter Soldier, Rumlow’s orgasm hit him unexpectedly, hands digging hard into the asset’s hips as he pulsed for what felt like forever.

When he finally came down from his high, Rumlow slowly pulled out, enjoying the feeling of the Soldier’s asshole clenching down on him as if desperate to keep him inside. Rumlow patted the Soldier’s ass, saying, “Good boy.”

The Soldier gagged himself on Murphy’s fingers.

Murphy spoke up softly, pointing out, “He hasn’t come yet, Brock. How about a treat?”

Rumlow smiled with his teeth and reached a hand under again to check that, sure enough, the Soldier’s cock was still hard and now completely soaked with precome. It was all over his thighs and stomach from being pounded into, not to mention covering the grated floor. Clean-up was going to be a bitch.

“Soldier, come.”

A bodily spasm, another gagged choking and the Soldier came hard, looking like he might snap with how tense his body was. He barely came down from his orgasm before Westfahl said clearly, “Soldier, come.”

Rumlow turned, about to give a dressing down for giving an order without authority, but a choked off scream brought his attention back to the Soldier who violently shuddered as he orgasmed again, so quickly after the first.

All the agents looked at each other in awe and intrigue, and then every single pair of eyes landed on Rumlow. Murphy raised his eyebrow at Rumlow who nodded at him. Murphy gripped the Soldier’s hair sharply, forcing him off of his other fingers to look up at him, and commanded, “Soldier, come.”

The Soldier opened his mouth but no sound came out; his eyes grew impossibly wide as his body contorted, his metal arm whirling uncontrollably as he came for a third time, adding to the already impressive mess he had accumulated. He crumpled in a heap when he’d finished, breathing harshly and unevenly in the dead silence of the plane. His eyes were completely glazed over, and mouth hung open.

“Holy _shit_.” Rollins whispered.

“What about a fourth-” Westfahl began, but just then, the pilot interrupted.

“We’re about five minutes out from base. Whatever you guys are doing back there, wrap it up. Pierce wants a report as soon as we touch down.”

Rumlow acknowledged him while still staring at the Soldier.

“Everyone, get yourself together. Soldier, clean everything up.” Rumlow directed, still staring at the Soldier who stood up immediately to go about cleaning all the evidence. He quickly figured out that he needed to clean himself up first or else he was never going to get anything else cleaned, so he made to move towards the bathroom. Where before everyone would have moved out of his way, tonight, Anderson reached out and briefly touched the Soldier’s flesh arm, while Thompson petted his head as he passed.

“Guess that’ll be something to look into next time, huh?” Rollins murmured to Rumlow.

“No kidding.” Rumlow replied.

They landed and delivered the report, everyone looking presentable and respectable. They received their praise for a job well done, and then were sent on their way. Rumlow stayed behind like usual, and grabbed the Soldier’s elbow; he didn’t make a sound, nor gave any indication anything had happened between them as he walked willingly wherever Rumlow guided him. They walked in silence, ignoring any fearful looks from a passerby, down the familiar corridor to the lab.

This time, a short whimper escaped the Soldier when the doctors took him away from Rumlow to strap him into the chair. The usual doctor, -Dr. Hayes, Rumlow learned after finally reading his badge- turned his head at the sound, but when nothing more came out of the asset’s mouth, he finished strapping him in and fitted a rubber guard into the Soldier’s mouth. The Soldier took it in reflexively, demeanor passive while the doctor manipulated him.   

“What’s that for?” Rumlow asked, surprised by the change in routine. The Soldier kept the guard in his mouth, jaw tense from already biting into it, but he had on a look of confusion that rivaled the one Rumlow was trying to hide.

Dr. Hayes sighed, annoyed again by not only Rumlow’s presence, but his distracting questions.

“We’ve decided to up the voltage for the machine due to certain themes we’ve been noticing in recent reports. The guard is to make sure he doesn’t bite through his tongue.” Before Rumlow could say anything, the doctor turned on the machine, and the room filled with blood-curdling screams from the Soldier. Rumlow fought the impulse to cover his ears because it was so loud. The Soldier’s fingers curled into white-knuckled fists, and the metal one actually made a grinding sound, quiet under the awful cries he kept making. He shook so violently, Rumlow thought he might truly break out of the straps holding him. Rumlow never knew the Soldier’s eyes could open so wide, his pupils dilated so much they swallowed any color.

It lasted way longer than any other time, but finally, when the machine was turned off and the screaming stopped, the Soldier slumped in his chair, eyes completely glazed over in agony.

The doctor reached up and tugged the mouth guard out, moving it back and forth until the Soldier finally released it. He then started putting together the milking machine, and the Soldier’s dead eyes landed on Rumlow, giving him what looked to be a drugged version of a pleading look.

Rumlow ignored it and asked, “What do you mean ‘due to certain themes’?” The doctor sighed again at the picked up conversation but kept putting everything together. Rumlow continued, “He’s been performing better than ever!”

The doctor paused with the tube right over the Soldier’s cock, turning to give Rumlow a curious look.

“What does it matter?” He then turned back and continued his job, fitting the tube around the flaccid penis and moving back to turn the machine on.

The Soldier numbingly shifted when the machine started moving, but otherwise sat perfectly still, eyes still glazed over. When the doctor forced him to come, the Soldier shuddered almost as violently as with the machine and offered up a garbled groan.

Rumlow ended up having to help him out of the chair again.

“Long missions, huh? Tiring.” He explained needlessly at the doctor’s frown.

*

The next mission was a failure.

They didn’t get their target, and Murphy got shot. It was a clusterfuck from the beginning with bad intel that threw out the first three prepared scenarios out the window and straight into “Fuck Up Land.” It didn’t help that the comms went dead as soon as their feet hit the ground, so everyone was flying blind, relying on half-assed coordinates that nearly got them all killed. Relying on smoke signals would have been more successful.

At least Murphy was still alive. He’d lost a lot of blood, but they’d been able to patch him up and board him. He was half-out of it with the amount of pain-killers they’d pumped him with. But he wasn’t out of it enough to witness Rumlow’s wrath.

To say Rumlow was pissed was an understatement of the century. This was his mission that went FUBAR so spectacularly, his ass that was going to get reamed.

He was _livid_.

So he did the only thing that made sense.

“Soldier!” Rumlow barked. The Winter Soldier froze from where he was about to kneel down in what had become ingrained as his spot, and stood at attention at Rumlow’s shout.

Rumlow didn’t even give him a chance to straighten up all the way before he backhanded him so hard that the Soldier actually stumbled a few steps, hand almost coming up as if to touch the bright red mark that suddenly bloomed across his face.

“Get the fuck back here.” Rumlow spat out, the venom in his voice practically dripping. Everyone else did their best impression of becoming one with the wall as they got out of the war path. The Soldier, however, straightened back up and calmly returned to Rumlow.

“That’s right. You’re my bitch. You listen to me.” Rumlow slapped him open-handed across the opposite side, but the Soldier took it without shifting too much this time. His head was still snapped harshly to the side, but he was able to hold on to his composure.

That only enraged Rumlow more.

He slapped him again, even harder, and let out a mean laugh when it cut the Soldier’s lip. A bright bead of blood immediately welled up, but the Soldier made no move to touch the sore spot. So Rumlow took it upon himself to reach over and roughly press his thumb into the cut, making the Soldier nearly flinch at the sudden closeness and sting. Rumlow kept adding pressure and then just slipped his fingers into his mouth, shoving far back enough that tears sprang up in the Soldier’s eyes as he desperately tried not to choke.

Rumlow snatched his fingers out and then gripped the Soldier’s shoulder and neck with both hands before pulling him in and down so that he could knee him right in the stomach. He did it again, and again, and _again_ , the Soldier taking the abuse like a pliant ragdoll, until Rumlow heard Rollins make a distressed sound. He glanced at his team member and saw that his mouth was open as if he wanted to protest but no sound came out. Rumlow waited a moment, hands still gripping the Soldier who was panting in an effort to stay quiet, but when no one said anything, he turned his attention back to the Soldier.

“On your knees.”  The Soldier dropped like a stone, still curled over, and his metal hand landed on the floor to balance him. Rumlow sunk his fingers into the Soldier’s hair and ripped his head back, brutally baring his throat, before hissing, “Keep that disgusting thing out of sight.”

The Soldier swallowed hard at the sharp angle and shuddered. Slowly, he followed the order and brought his metal arm behind his back.

Still clutching his hair tightly, Rumlow began to kick the Soldier’s stomach, only drawing out harsh exhales and gasps. He let go brutally in order to really go to town, not letting up when the Soldier lost his balance with his arm out of the way, and fell to his side. If anything, it just made him an easier target for Rumlow to rain down hurt on his asset.

When the Soldier’s gasping took on an alarming pace, Rumlow paused for a moment, letting the Soldier try in vain to curl around his middle; but Rumlow only waited long enough to shift his weight and then brought his foot down deliberately on the Soldier’s head, right over his temple. He made sure to go slow, telegraphing his movement, and then applied more and more pressure on the Soldier’s face, rolling his foot so whatever crap was on his boot really rubbed off.

“This is where you belong.” Rumlow mocked, “On the floor, under my boot.” He took his weight off the Soldier, unreasonably pleased when he saw he’d left a muddy print on the Soldier’s face.

The Soldier breathed in raggedly and stayed still, not daring to move. Rumlow almost ordered him to turn onto his back, but he opted to correct his posture for him by kicking him brutally one more time. The blow of it had the Soldier rolling onto his back, his chest rising up and down quickly as he tried to breathe through the pain.

“Brock,” Rollins finally murmured, face uneasy.

Rumlow looked back at him and grinned, feral and harsh. “He’s gotta learn his place. I’m going to teach him.”

Rumlow looked down at the Soldier’s waiting face, and very steadily and purposefully stepped down onto the Soldier’s crotch. He started off slowly, and gradually added more and more pressure, knowing he was crushing the Soldier’s cock and balls under his boot and through his tactical pants.

He wanted to hear the Soldier make a noise.

So far, all he was getting was breathy gasps and shuddering breaths, so he kept adding pressure, rolling his boot to really make sure it was being felt.

Finally, _finally_ , he got a tiny hurt noise in the form of a whimper.

It was like shooting up on the purest form of heroin. Rumlow wanted _more_.

He kept going, pulling more and more ragged sounds out of the Soldier until they took on an alarming pleading pitch, and the Soldier’s eyes widened in terror. His bleeding lip trembled and the bruises forming on his cheek were shining.

“Brock, that’s enough.” Rollins called out softly, fear laced in his tone.

Rumlow stared straight down at the Soldier and added more pressure, causing him to cry out incoherently, before finally relenting and removing his foot away.

Rumlow let out a long-suffering sigh and walked back to his seat, clipping the Soldier’s ear with his boot along the way. When he sat down heavily, Rumlow closed his eyes and breathed hard for a moment, enjoying the last vestiges of his fading adrenaline.

Without opening his eyes, he clicked his fingers and pointed at his feet. The Soldier saw the silent order and dragged himself to his hands and knees to crawl over to Rumlow and kneel in front of him, metal hand sliding behind his back again. Rumlow cracked an eye open to take in the Soldier’s stance, and after a thought, he growled out, “Bend over. Ass up.”

The Soldier moved cautiously, dropping down onto his elbow and bringing his knees in closer so that his ass could stick up. It wasn’t satisfying enough.

“No. Turn around. Present.”            

Everyone was quiet and still.

The Soldier shifted around until his ass was presented towards Rumlow, and his head dropped down to lightly rest on his flesh forearm. His metal arm was still tucked behind his back, now at an awkward angle in this position, but he didn’t dare bring it forward.

Rumlow made a pleased sound in his throat and calmly informed the Soldier, “You’re going to stay like this for the rest of the flight. Give you time to really learn your lesson.”

The Soldier didn’t make a sound.

The flight was ten hours.

Later in the lab, Rumlow watched with a keen eye the way the Soldier reacted to the machine, and again when the doctor ordered the asset to orgasm.

He didn’t make a move and refused to make a sound, staring straight down at the floor the whole time.

*

Their next mission was a success. A very, _very_ big success. A lot of higher-ups were going to be _very_ pleased.

The only thing that wasn’t on board with their celebratory mood, unfortunately, was the weather. Fortunately, the blizzard had decided to ramp up after they’d achieved their goal, so they couldn’t be too annoyed at the errant storm.

It was just not that convenient to get trapped in a small safe house with seven grown men.

It also wasn’t very likely that they were going to get out of there for a while until the storm passed. They were looking at several hours at the least, probably not until morning.

“Fuck this storm, man. I want to go home.” Westfahl complained. It went to show how much everyone was of the same mindset that no one called him out on his whiny tone.

“I’m just imagining the look on Pierce’s face when we tell him that not only did everything go to plan, but we fucking actually took care of two birds with one stone.” Murphy crowed. He’d been ecstatic when medical had cleared him in time for this mission, and not only that, he’d been able to take part in such a successful run.

“Imagine the extra vacation time we’re going to get from this.” Anderson said dreamily.

“Oh look, Anderson’s already planning his next picnic with the chain and ball.” Thompson mocked good-naturedly. He received a pillow thrown at his face for that.

Rumlow watched his men rib each other genially for a couple of minutes, enjoying the easy companionship they all shared. Despite the raging storm outside, everyone was cheerful and in good spirits. Even the Soldier seemed to pick up on the general atmosphere and looked vaguely less murder-y than usual as he did his typical perimeter checks whenever they were in a new safe house. Unfortunately for him, the perimeter was tiny, so he ended up doing a few laps before giving up and standing guard in the most defensible spot of the house.

Soon after their conversations died off, a silence covered the room. “Fuck, I can’t believe no one brought a deck of cards.” Rollins grumbled, snuggling further into a blanket he had draped over his shoulders. The fire that they’d started when they’d first gotten there wasn’t giving off as much warmth as they’d hoped, but eventually the whole house would warm up with their combined body heats adding to the fire’s meager contribution. It was just going to suck a bit until then.

But at least that sparked a couple short-lived conversations about games that they could have been playing and who was the worst at poker. But soon again they all quieted down, only the wind from outside occasionally breaking the monotony.

“I’m so fucking bored.” Westfahl called out from where he was laying upside down on the loveseat in the corner. “What the fuck are we supposed to do? This place has no-” he kicked out his feet which caused him to slump into the chair sideways, but the new position put him in the right spot to have a direct eye-line towards the opposite corner where the Soldier was standing.

“Entertainment.” He finished quietly, staring right at the Soldier. Everyone had looked up when he’d paused in the middle of his sentence, and it didn’t take long for them to figure out why. Boredom was instantly dashed away to be replaced with a sudden and intense curiosity. The Soldier looked up immediately when he felt the change in the ambiance. 

Rumlow then broke the tense silence to speak lowly, “Soldier, come here.”

The next few minutes was a whirlwind of motion and desire, and before anyone knew what was happening, the Soldier was naked and on his hands and knees with Rumlow’s cock in his ass and Rollins in front of the Soldier’s face.

“Make it good.” Rollins said needlessly. The Soldier was fantastic at sucking cock, and sure enough the Soldier nearly lunged to take all of Rollins in his mouth. He was only stopped by Rumlow’s hands on his hips holding him back so that Rumlow could shove into him harshly. He hadn’t bothered with any sort of prep other than a cursory finger, but at least they had all learned to carry a small packet of lube with them on missions now. Still, getting fucked by a lube-slathered cock with hardly any other preparation must have been rough.

Rumlow never heard a single complaint though, so he just went back to driving into that sweet ass.

“Fuck!” Rollins cried out as his hips stuttered and he pushed all the way down the Soldier’s throat. Anderson shifted off the couch he’d been sitting on and joined them on the floor, only to wrap a hand around Rollins’ cock that was bulging from the Soldier’s throat. “Jesus that feels amazing.” Rollins moaned.

“It looks fucking amazing.” Anderson agreed and then he started squeezing the Soldier’s throat. “Look at him, he’s trying to breathe but he’d rather have a cock in his throat.” The Soldier’s neck muscles were starting to seriously tremble, tensing and relaxing as if he was trying to cough, but couldn’t even manage that. His eyes were blown wide open and his shoulders shook, though half of that was probably from Rumlow’s incessant drilling behind him.

Finally Rollins pulled out, long strings of jizz and spit following him as the Soldier hacked out some desperate coughs. His lips were shiny with the mess, but when Anderson switched his grip to his hair and pulled his face upwards, he parted his mouth just as eagerly as he’d done with Rollins.

The Soldier had barely gotten in a good breath before Anderson fucked his mouth. At the same time Rumlow finally reached his tipping point and after three short snaps of his hips, he was coming into the asset. He threw his head back and gave a great satisfied sigh.

“Murph, you wanna go next?” he rumbled, thoroughly sated. He had to pry his fingers off of the Soldier from curling them in so tightly. He watched the way the Soldier’s white skin bloomed red with the crescent welts he’d left from his nails.

“Dude, I don’t fucking care if it’s sloppy seconds, I’m in.” Murphy said cheerfully as he moved closer. Rumlow pulled out and stumbled away onto the couch to watch from his throne. He could see his little kingdom in front of him, his subjects all in a greedy little circle around his most prized possession. Rollins was on the floor, leaning against the couch in an elegant sprawl, watching the proceedings. Anderson was fucking the Soldier from the front while Murphy took up Rumlow’s previous position and started fucking him from the back. Thompson was on one side and Westfahl on the other, both of them with cocks in hand as they waited their turn for one end or the other.

Thompson got slightly impatient, though, and looked over to Rumlow, saying, “He doesn’t need both hands to stay up, does he?” When Rumlow smirked, Thompson turned his attention back the Soldier and tapped on his flesh hand, “Soldier, help a team member out, will ya?”

When he was too slow to react, Thompson yanked on his wrist, causing the Soldier to nearly lose his balance. His metal arm caught him in time, but by then it was too late and his chest lowered nearly to the floor.

Anderson gave an annoyed grumble when the new angle made his cock slip out of the Soldier’s mouth, but he just sat down on his ass and scooted up closer, pulling the Soldier in by his hair until he had a full mouthful again. Murphy simply adjusted to the new position and resumed his energetic fucking.

Thompson brought the Soldier’s hand to his own cock and made a triumphant noise when his plan worked and the Soldier began to jack him off. From the other side of their asset, Westfahl looked jealous of the new turn of events, and eyed the Soldier’s other hand. But apparently even he wasn’t stupid enough to tempt fate with the metal arm and wisely kept his mouth shut against any complaints that were surely bubbling up to the forefront of his mind.

“Fuck!” Anderson groaned loudly and suddenly, shooting off into the Soldier’s mouth. Unfortunately for the Soldier, he hadn’t been expecting the orgasm, and ended up inhaling the load by mistake, coughing immediately and frantically until he was a spluttering mess. His face becoming a wet canvas of ejaculate, saliva and sweat.

 “Shit!” Westfahl cursed, half-propped up on his knees with a fist curling tightly around the base of his cock. It looked like he was trying to stave off the orgasm he was clearly in the middle of, and when he’d finished, his face fell comically.

“Shoot off a little too soon there, Carl?” Rollins taunted. Westfahl turned red, petulantly crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Fuck, I really wanted a turn!” he whined spectacularly.

It was probably for the best, Rumlow thought distantly. The Soldier still hadn’t gotten his breath back, and he was still being pummeled by Murphy who was probably seconds from coming himself. The Soldier was still giving Thompson a handjob, but it seemed like it was too good of a time, because seconds later Thompson came with a grunt, covering the asset’s hand with semen. On top of that, now his hair was pearly white with Westfahl’s misdeed, and it was dripping down the sweaty strands. That was going to be hell to clean later when it was dry, Rumlow mused.

Murphy was last to come, but not by much. He doubled over the Soldier when he came, hand coming up to his neck for balance which caused him to push the Soldier all the way down onto the ground.

Within a few moments everyone was sated and lounging around the carpet and couch, looking decadent in their various states of undress with the Soldier debauched in the middle of it all. The Soldier was still panting hard, but he hadn’t moved from where they’d left him.

“Brock, why don’t you give him a nice little treat? He’s been such a good fuck-toy for us, after all.” Rollins said, tipping his head back on the cushion to make eye contact with Rumlow. Rumlow hummed agreeably and clicked his fingers.

“Come here.” He ordered casually.

The Soldier wearily got his hands under him and pushed himself up. He hung his head low and then crawled over to where Rumlow was sitting with his knees apart like an arrogant sovereign. He didn’t stop crawling until he was right in the V of his legs. Only then did Rumlow reach out a hand and with a single finger, he lifted the Soldier’s chin so that he could see his whole dirty face. Rumlow had no idea when he’d gotten hard, but a glance down told him his cock was ready to go.

“Come.” Rumlow commanded.

The Soldier shuddered hard as he came without being touched, a streak of white painting his thighs.

“Good boy.” Rumlow praised, bopping the Soldier’s nose lightly with a finger. He didn’t want to touch anything else because he was so gross.

“I wonder how many times he can come?” Anderson speculated.

Rumlow looked up in interest. “Anyone wanna make any bets?”

He received various times from Murphy’s modest 5 to Westfahl’s ridiculous 43.  When everyone had given him a number, they all turned a sharp eye to the Soldier who had held eerily still their whole debate.

“Let’s begin, then.” Rumlow said cheerfully. “Soldier, come.”

The Soldier’s eyes widened as he orgasmed automatically, his cock twitching with the strain. Almost immediately Murphy called out, “Soldier, come!” and he did, both hands coming up to grip the edge of the couch cushion in between Rumlow’s legs.

“Soldier, come.” Westfahl gleefully ordered, looking proud of himself. The Soldier gasped and came, his whole body convulsing hard as he nearly lost his balance.

“Come.” Rollins commanded, looking impressed when the Soldier spurted out another sad trail of white that got smeared on the couch when he tensed up.

When Murphy ordered him to come, the Soldier moaned and grabbed onto Rumlow’s pants for stability or comfort, Rumlow didn’t know. He didn’t care particularly, especially when he ordered the asset to orgasm again.

The Soldier fell backwards. His stomach muscles were visibly cramping hard and he started having trouble breathing, letting out pitiful animal noises as he writhed on his back. He tried to turn to push himself up and managed it halfway.

They kept going.

Each orgasm was obviously taking its toll on the asset who had completely lost the ability to hold himself up at all as well as censor himself. He was crying and whimpering, hands uselessly curling into fists by his sides as he became a slave to his programming.

He followed each order spectacularly, cock shuddering as hard as the rest of his body as he complied beautifully.

By the eleventh orgasm, he fought against his reactions in order to weakly drag himself back to Rumlow. Rumlow held out a hand for everyone else to pause, wanting to see what the Soldier thought was so important.

It took a long time for the Soldier to reach Rumlow again, his arms and legs dangerously wobbly as he tried to crawl. When he reached him, Rumlow helped him the rest of the way by grabbing onto his now-tacky and stiff hair and pulling him up between his legs again.

“Yes?” Rumlow asked, looking into the Soldier’s ruddy face. He was gasping and shaking and looking at him desperately. Rumlow wondered if he was going to start begging as much as his pleading face looked like, but no words came from the asset.

“Oh, baby. Lost for words? Don’t worry, sweetie.” Rumlow crooned, holding him tighter and pulling him up higher. The Soldier winced when his face was forced closer to Rumlow’s. “This is your reward for being such a good boy. You’re doing so well, honey. You’re doing amazing. So come now.”

Rumlow could pinpoint the exact moment the Soldier shattered, tears streaming down with no holds. He was gasping horribly for air, but it didn’t matter.

The Soldier was forced to come.

Over.

And over.

And over.

And over again.

It didn’t matter if he had an erection or not, they found out. They still were able to make him come regardless. They were excitedly impressed when he started coming dry.

The Soldier passed out at number 29.

Thompson actually clicked his tongue and grumbled in disappointment. He had said an even 30, and was disappointed he hadn’t technically won.

“I wonder if he can still come?” Westfahl asked hopefully, determined to hit his guess.

The Soldier laid in an awkward sprawl on the floor, the carpet drenched with sweat and ejaculate. Even unconscious, his muscles were still trembling hard, his whole body shaking uncontrollably. His eyes had rolled to the back of his head, and his mouth hung slack, breathing laboriously still from the constant strain his body had just undergone. Rumlow’s ears were still ringing with echoes of his screams.

“Soldier, come.” Rumlow ordered loudly.

They all leaned in, eager to discover out the answer, but when it failed to work, they all quickly grew bored with their toy. Sated and tired, they all decided to sleep off the rest of the storm. Rumlow was the last to fall asleep, still excited from the night’s activities. When he finally drifted off, it was to the sweet sounds of the whimpered breaths the Soldier was still making.

When morning came, Rumlow and the others grew slightly worried when it took a long time to rouse the Soldier. He was still in the same position as last night, but his breathing had finally calmed. He was still disgusting though, semen caked onto his skin and hair, and tacky wherever they touched him. Not that they touched him a lot. It was Rumlow who shook him hard enough to make the Soldier come to. It was disconcerting to watch the Soldier slowly become conscious, and even more so when after being ordered to clean, his reactions were sluggish and dull.

He still obeyed them, though.

It took him twice as long to get dressed, and Murphy eventually took pity after watching him struggle so hard to put on a shirt. He approached the Soldier carefully, but when the Soldier paid him absolutely no attention, he went ahead and gently guided the Soldier into his shirt tugging his arm through as one would a child. Murphy didn’t even bother letting the Soldier figure out the straps of his armor, simply doing all the latches himself. Soon, all they were waiting on was the plane to pick them up.

The flight home was unusually quiet and calm, and with the presence of a different pilot than the one they were used to, they stayed on the side of caution and let the Soldier sit on the bench rather than force him on his knees. It felt weird not only for that, but for the empty gaze the Soldier had adopted, different from his murder glare or his kicked-puppy eyes they were all used to.

When Rumlow led the Soldier down to the lab, he very nearly felt bad for him when they put the machine on him. His screams rivaled the ones he’d made the night before, but these ones sounded more raw and horrible. He actually broke the strap on his left arm, though he stayed seated in his chair, enduring the whole process like a good little soldier.

After the machine, the doctor fixed the strap and then arranged the milking machine. When he opened the Soldier’s pants, however, he froze.

“Agent, care to explain why the Asset’s genitals look inflamed and sore?” Dr. Hayes asked shrewdly, looking at him with distaste.

Rumlow summoned up his best poker face, smiling as he explained, “You know, the Soldier really wanted to do his job and make those perimeter checks. Who was I to stop him from guaranteeing our safety? Maybe he had to take a piss while he was out there.” Rumlow shrugged at the end, giving the doctor his best ‘what can you do’ look.

The doctor glared at him suspiciously but didn’t comment.

When he ordered the Soldier to come, however, all hell broke loose.

The Soldier screamed gutturally and broke his strap again. This time, however, he went wild and broke his other strap, lunging at the doctor and snapping his neck in one swift motion. The guards that always surrounded them sprang into action, but no one was ever really a match against the Winter Soldier when he wanted to murder you.

He killed three more people before Rumlow shouted, “Soldier! At ease!”

To everyone’s surprise, including Rumlow’s, the Winter Soldier stopped. He didn’t just come to attention,-it was as if Rumlow had hit an ‘off’ switch. There was nothing behind the Soldier’s eyes, just complete blankness. A machine waiting to be used.

The remaining guards didn’t hesitate in using their stun batons to take the Soldier down, forcing him into heavy metal cuffs and binding his feet as well.

The Soldier didn’t fight them.

It was after that particular episode that the higher-ups decided that the risks of treating the Soldier this way were too high.

The decision was made to chemically castrate the Winter Soldier, in an attempt to sway him more in Hydra’s favor. 

*

Rumlow was furious.

His main source of entertainment didn’t work properly anymore. Or at least, that’s what he assumed. The one time he’d seen him since the disaster in the lab was on a mission with a few other agents he didn’t know. But the Soldier didn’t recognize him, nor treated him any differently than any of the other agents. There hadn’t been a moment to check to see if the Soldier could even get hard anymore.

That alone was enough to enrage Rumlow.

The Soldier was _his_.

Luckily, the next time he saw the Soldier was for a sniper mission. They didn’t trust the Soldier on his own any more so they asked Rumlow to babysit him and make sure he behaved accordingly. Apparently, Pierce had heard that Rumlow had subdued the Winter Soldier when no one else had been able to, and that made him the automatic choice to handle their precious Asset. Rumlow accepted the job with honor.

The mission was dead simple, and Rumlow even found himself wondering why the Soldier had been unfrozen for this, but he didn’t argue with the logic of Hydra. They found themselves together in a hotel room, alone. A phone call from base told Rumlow that the target was going to arrive later at night, so they had a few hours of wait time.

That suited Rumlow just fine.

It gave him plenty of time to corner the Soldier and order vehemently, “Suck me off.”

He had crowded the Soldier against the wall which gave him no choice but to drop down and tentatively reach for Rumlow’s pants. Rumlow slapped him hard across the face and growled, “Like you mean it.”

The Soldier picked up the pace at that, doing a fantastic job of acting like he was enthusiastic, as he got Rumlow’s pants undone and took his cock into his mouth. It was heavenly.

But it couldn’t make Rumlow come.

Rumlow pulled back and reached down, grabbing roughly at the Soldier’s crotch, only to find that the Soldier was limp and soft. Nothing like he used to get whenever he got his mouth around someone’s cock.

“Fuck!” Rumlow hissed out, frustrated. He grabbed the Soldier and threw him onto the bed, ripping down his pants and slicking himself up with lube he’d brought specifically with this in mind. He pushed into the Soldier as forcefully as he could, savagely enjoying the broken whimper that it garnered from the Soldier. He fucked into him roughly, ignoring the soft cries the Soldier made, only focusing on the way the Soldier laid there passively, taking it all without a struggle.

Even fucking him didn’t help, so Rumlow pulled out and pushed the Soldier over, manhandling him onto his back. The Soldier looked up at Rumlow with wide eyes, but said nothing.

Rumlow bent over and reached for the Soldier’s hair, pulling him closer and forcing him to look at him. After a minute of just staring at the Soldier, Rumlow spoke very clearly and deliberately, “Soldier, come.”

The Soldier’s eyes widened even further as his body convulsed and a very faint trickle of semen spilled out of his flaccid cock.

Rumlow barely fisted his own cock before he came messily all over the Soldier, a relieved and victorious laugh escaping him. His orgasm felt like it could go on forever, and when it finally tapered off, Rumlow couldn’t help grinning, stupidly happy with life.

Still gripping the Soldier hard, Rumlow looked into the Soldier’s wary eyes and told him, “You’re mine, you know that? You’re always going to be mine, and you’ll always do as I say.” Rumlow nodded to himself.

“Say it. Say that you’re mine.” Rumlow ordered, nearly preening himself with pride.

The Soldier opened his mouth to comply, voice hoarse and ruined, “I’m yours.”

“Good boy.” Rumlow praised, voice going mockingly gentle. “You’re mine. Forever. Come here.”

Rumlow practically dragged the Soldier off of the bed, pushing him down onto the floor. “This is where you belong,” Rumlow decreed, “on your knees at my feet.” The Soldier folded himself into his usual position, hands going behind his back. This time, when Rumlow sank his fingers into the Soldier’s hair again, he was kind, running through the strands and untangling any unruly knots.

“Yeah.” Rumlow continued softly, “Right here. _Mine_.” Rumlow bent over until he was at eye level with the Soldier. “You obey _me_. Now come.”

Tears sprang up in the Soldier’s eyes when he obeyed, his body conditioned to do as ordered even when it couldn’t work. It didn’t matter that his cock was broken. It didn’t matter that his body was suddenly under a strain it didn’t know how to fix. He just shuddered and obeyed.

Rumlow smiled. He looked into the Soldier’s eyes, pure fear enveloping them whole, and ordered, “ _Come_.”

**

It hadn’t taken long to figure out just how touch-starved Bucky was.

At the beginning, Steve hadn’t known if his touch would be welcomed or if Bucky would flinch away from him like he did with some other things. He was never more relieved when he realized that Bucky wanted it. Needed it.

Not that he ever asked for it.

But every time Steve touched him, no matter how accidental or small, Bucky always gave him a small smile and tried to lean into the touch, regardless of where they were. Steve never minded, of course, and even took it upon himself to try and touch Bucky as often as he could, a pat on the shoulder or a brush against his hand. He made sure to let their legs line up, from ankle to thigh, whenever they sat next to each other.

The best times, however, was whenever Steve offered Bucky a hug. He never failed to melt into them, body going completely lax and soft and his flesh hand always coming up to tangle in Steve’s shirt, almost as if afraid that Steve would leave him.

Steve just held on harder.

He always ignored the way that Bucky’s right hand would shake slightly, tremors leftover as side-effects from the chemical castration Hydra had forced on him. Steve had seen the prescription list Hydra had had him on to combat the tremors and make submission even easier while he was still under their control. Bucky’s body was still having a hard time trying to sort through all of the chemical imbalances it had been subjected to, and what was left over from that were the tremors. Sometimes they got so bad that his whole body would quiver uncontrollably.

Steve would hold him through it, gently shushing Bucky whenever he tried to apologize for it.

One thing Steve hadn’t quite figured out was Bucky’s continuous hesitance when it came to his metal arm. It wasn’t just Bucky’s general avoidance of touching people with it, -it went beyond that. It almost seemed like it was an unconscious decision to always keep his left arm down whenever Steve touched him. Despite all of Steve’s assurances that it was okay and that Steve wanted every part of him, Bucky always had to make the conscious choice to touch him with it.

But they were working through it. They were working through a lot of issues that always cropped up. This, being one of them:

“Have we ever fucked before?” Bucky asked Steve one day while they were lounging by the window. They were in the countryside of France, taking a well-deserved vacation that nobody could dare deny them. Steve had been drawing the daisies that grew in the garden outside of their little cottage.

“Um.” Steve said eloquently.

“You know, like, before the war. Or even during it?” Bucky continued, ignoring the way Steve’s cheeks blushed.

Steve refused to lie to Bucky, something that Bucky sometimes took advantage of, but this time he seemed genuinely curious, so Steve answered honestly, “Yeah. We did.”

At Bucky interested expression, he continued, relaxing again, “Sometimes we had to shove socks in our mouths so Mrs. Flannigan wouldn’t hear us. When the serum…” Steve gestured to his body, “well, let’s just say you had a lot of fun trying to figure out what else the serum had enhanced.” Steve chuckled, and Bucky grinned, a boyish glint appearing in his eyes that made him look younger.

Bucky dipped his head down to smile, letting his hair cover his face before carefully looking up through the strands, a mischievous eyebrow raised as he asked, “And what were the results?”

Steve laughed out loud and set aside his sketchbook in favor of spreading his arms wide in an invitation. Bucky immediately sprung up and crawled into Steve’s lap, letting Steve envelop him into a big hug. The sun was warm and a gentle breeze made Bucky’s hair flutter around mildly.

“You had a really sore jaw at one point.” Steve said fondly, and Bucky snorted. “And a sore ass.” Bucky lightly swatted at Steve’s chest for that one.

“Hey!” Steve cried out in fake indignation, “That one was your own damn fault. You wanted to be like a cowboy, if I remember correctly.” Bucky actually laughed at that one, deliberately bringing his metal arm up to wrap his fingers gingerly around Steve’s shoulder. The grip didn’t last long, and he changed it to idly making patterns instead.

They both lapsed into a comfortable silence after that, simply taking in the pretty view and enjoying the weather as much as each other’s company.

Eventually, Bucky spoke up, voice holding some trepidation, “Can we, um,” Bucky licked his lips and Steve stayed silent, knowing that sometimes Bucky had a hard time getting some words out. “Can we do that?” Bucky asked finally.

“Do what?” Steve asked, vaguely wondering if Bucky was asking what he thought he was asking.

“You know,” Bucky hedged, “Fuck. Like we did before.”

Steve was about to say how he thought it was a bad idea, but Bucky beat him to it, pointing out, “And before you say no, I just want to say that it’s my own choice, right? If I’m ‘ready or not.’” Bucky made the air quotes against Steve’s shoulder. “So if you were going to say no because of that…please don’t?” Bucky finished, tipping his head back so he could look at Steve’s expressions.

Steve looked down at Bucky, tucked up comfortably in his arms, and knew he had already lost. Not only could Steve refuse anything that Bucky asked for, because he barely ever asked for anything, but the truth was, he missed it. It’s not like he’d had a busy night-life since Bucky, and he was only a man after all.

And Bucky looked so goddamn _hopeful_.

“Okay.” Steve agreed softly, dropping a kiss to Bucky’s nose. He loved the way Bucky scrunched up his face, and the silly-happy smile that replaced it was even better.

They untangled themselves and held hands as they walked to their bedroom. Bucky had his own room and bed, but most nights he opted to stay with Steve, cuddling up to him and clinging in a way that Steve not-so-secretly adored.

When they walked through the threshold, however, Bucky immediately dropped to his knees, startling the hell out of Steve.

“Umm, Bucky?” Steve started off cautiously. There were so many things that could be happening at the moment, from flashbacks to panic attacks to fight responses, so he tried to move slowly. “What’cha doing down there, Buck?”

Bucky, for his part, actually looked a little confused himself, as if not realizing he’d done that. It took him a moment before coming up with the answer, “That’s how _they_ always had me. On missions?”

Bucky didn’t need to elaborate, because dawning came on Steve along with a particular mix of wrath and powerlessness that always cropped up whenever he thought about Hydra. Not only that, but Steve was nearly certain that Bucky was referring to the Strike Team, which meant Rumlow.

Pushing away a vague sense of mortification, Steve joined Bucky on the floor, reaching a hand towards his face. Bucky immediately leaned in, and let himself be pulled against Steve’s chest when Steve tugged. Very slowly, Steve coaxed Bucky up again, letting him put his weight on Steve as he then guided the both of them to sit on the bed.

“I don’t know what they did, or what they made you do,” Steve began, after taking a few deliberate breaths. He knew Bucky wouldn’t blame him for getting angry, but either way he didn’t want to deal with those emotions right now, “but I’m pretty sure that that’s not how it works. It’s not supposed to…” Steve trailed off, trying to think of something encouraging and settled for, “It’s not supposed to hurt.”

It was true he didn’t know what Hydra had done to him in this regard; there weren’t exactly files that had a lot of details about any sexual encounters. The only note he’d seen was a tiny annotation that had said that the Winter Soldier had been taken off of the traditional methods of subduing combined with reinforcement to the more recent chemical castration. Steve had no idea what the traditional methods were, nor had Bucky told him if he even remembered.

But Steve was willing to bet it wasn’t something good.

Bucky was silent for a few moments, seemingly to collect his thoughts before laying everything out carefully, “I know that. Intellectually, I know. Sex is supposed to be fun and feel good. It’s just probably going to take me a while to _know_ that.”

Suddenly, Steve knew that Bucky remembered a little bit more than he was letting on. Judging by the vague frown on his face, however, Bucky didn’t remember too much. Just enough to know that sex had hurt.

“But,” Bucky kept going, “I still want to try. Please?” He deliberately placed his right hand on the top of Steve’s pants, thumb on the button, and waited, looking up at Steve’s face for permission.

Looking at Bucky’s determined face was enough to concede. Steve nodded, and Bucky started undoing his pants. Steve made a noise all of a sudden, and held Bucky’s wrist, pausing the undressing to say, “If at any point you need or want to stop, tell me. I will stop, Bucky.” Steve stressed the last part, hand squeezing a little in emphasis. 

“I say stop, you stop.” Bucky repeated seriously, and Steve gently let go, letting Bucky finish undoing his pants.

It didn’t take long before both of them were naked, laying face-to-face on their sides as they curiously explored each other’s bodies; Bucky touching as much as he could, face squinted up in concentration, and Steve trying desperately to relearn this new body of Bucky’s. It wasn’t the first time they’d done that, shirtless and exploratory, but with the new tension of what they were planning on doing, it took on an exciting thrill.

“That feels real good, Buck.” Steve breathed when Bucky started stroking his cock. Steve hardened quickly, the sight of Bucky, naked and open, enough to get him halfway there. Steve tried to get Bucky hard too, but after a little bit, it became clear that Bucky was probably always going to take longer now, due to the residual effects of the chemical castration. Bucky didn’t seem to mind, humming happily when Steve focused his efforts in just touching him everywhere else, including his metal arm.

The scars and ridges of where metal fused with flesh weren’t new to Steve anymore; it hurt Bucky frequently enough that Steve had ended up taking masseuse classes just to give Bucky better massages. But here in bed, it seemed that the sensitive skin could also help Bucky feel better if his satisfied sighs were anything to go by. Steve loved the way goosebumps rose wherever he left a touch. 

“How’re you doing, Buck?” Steve breathed letting his palms go flat as he chased away the goosebumps.

Bucky gave a soft whimper at the feeling, and then broke into a pleased grin. “Doing…good.” Bucky said between breaths as he tentatively brought his left hand to brush Steve’s jaw. Steve held still for Bucky, knowing this was still hard for him sometimes, but when Bucky traced Steve’s lips, it was automatic reflex for Steve to suck in a finger. Bucky whimpered again and closed his eyes, but he left his fingers there. When Steve started sucking, Bucky shivered, and Steve knew that he’d been downplaying how sensitive his metal arm really was.

It must have been a little bit too much because Bucky shuddered and shook his head slightly as he let his fingers slip from Steve’s mouth. But instead of retreating it back, he settled it on Steve’s waist, and with a wicked smirk, doubled down on his efforts of handling Steve’s cock.

Steve felt himself getting closer and closer to climax, but he tried to hold off on it, wanting to focus on Bucky and the way he shivered happily when Steve kissed him behind the ear and down his neck, only to suck gently on his collarbone.

When Steve’s hand wandered south again, he was immensely pleased to find that Bucky was half-hard. He was starting to breathe heavier, and when he looked up at Steve, his pupils were blown wide with arousal.

“Am I doing it right?” Bucky asked, sounding dreamy. It took Steve a minute to answer, because he’d finally had the realization that this was something that had survived the years. Mind-wiping or no, Bucky knew how to play Steve like a fiddle.

“Yeah, Buck, just like-” Steve started to say, but on a particularly clever stroke of Bucky’s fingers, he shot off without warning.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Steve started to apologize when he’d come back down to earth and noticed that Bucky had gone completely still. He was about to continue to apologize when he figured out that maybe coming without warning might not be the problem.

“Bucky? You doing okay?” Steve asked, realizing that Bucky stopped breathing. “What’s wrong? Bucky?”

Steve was completely concerned now, watching as Bucky seemed to be getting more and more terrified, cock going completely soft.

“Bucky, c’mon, come back to me. Breathe.” Steve coaxed quickly, rubbing his hand over Bucky’s shoulder and back.

Finally, Bucky took in a ragged breath, only to let it out in a shaky response, “P-please,” He cut himself off sharply, gasping again, and eyebrows knitting together as a reflex.

“Shh, it’s okay, We’re stopping, it’s okay,” Steve started to comfort, but Bucky kept begging.

“Please don’t, no, please don’t!” Bucky was getting more and more riled up, so Steve did the only thing he could think of and pulled Bucky in, holding his face against his chest, and bringing his arms around his back to keep him close.

The touch worked instantly, and Bucky shuddered out a harsh breath, nudging his face closer against Steve’s chest, almost trying to bury himself. He kept talking though, and even though his voice was muffled now, Steve was able to hear him say, “Please don’t make me come, don’t, please don’t make me. I don’t want to come, please, I don’t want to…”

“Hey, shhh.” Steve murmured, hands still rubbing up and down Bucky’s back, dead grateful that contact always seemed to help. “It’s okay, Bucky. You don’t have to come, it’s okay.”

Bucky sniffled, turning his head enough to grit out raggedly, “Promise?”

“Yeah, yes, of course. I’m never going to make you do anything you don’t want to, Buck. I promise.” Steve vowed, pressing a kiss on top of Bucky’s head and pulling him in closer. Bucky’s flaccid cock was pressed against Steve’s wet one, but he didn’t care. He lifted a leg over Bucky and tucked him in closer against his body, taking comfort in the way Bucky instinctively fitted himself securely against him.

They stayed locked together like that for a long time, with Steve murmuring quiet reassurances, and Bucky slowly calming down. Finally, they both reached a sort of equilibrium, and relaxed, breathing in each other’s spaces.

“’M sorry I fucked it up. Guess I wasn’t ready.” Bucky offered up miserably.

Steve huffed out a sigh and brought a hand to Bucky’s face to gently turn him. He waited until Bucky met his gaze, and then said, “You didn’t fuck anything up. You’re perfect to me,” and kissed him, carefully and meaningfully. When he broke the kiss, Bucky made a soft noise and chased him for another kiss which Steve happily gave to him.

This time, when they parted, Bucky settled back against Steve’s chest and whispered, “I’m not perfect. But I like hearing you say that.”

Steve brought his hand up to cradle Bucky’s head, letting his fingers card through his hair, “You are, though. You’re so amazing and incredible.” Bucky scoffed, but Steve rolled on, “I’m not lying. You’re so spectacular. Yeah, you have some hard times, and I’m not saying you’re an easy person to live with,” Steve gave a dry chuckle at that, and Bucky grinned at the teasing tone Steve put on, “But then again, you’ve never been an easy person to live with.” Steve finished, massaging Bucky’s neck now.

Bucky hummed in agreement.

“Yeah, like you’re a peach either.” He mock-grumbled.

Steve just smiled into Bucky’s hair and held him close again. “Yeah, we’re a real pair.”

“I said, ‘peach,’ not ‘pear.’” Bucky deadpanned.

“Oh my god.” Steve rolled his eyes and gently headbutted Bucky who snorted a laugh.

They laid there in silence for a few minutes, but Steve noticed Bucky getting restless, fidgeting and twitching. “What?” Steve poked him in the side, “Spit it out.”

It took Bucky another minute before he quietly asked, “Will you try again? With me?”

“What, having sex?” Steve asked.

“Yeah.” Bucky mumbled. “I don’t want…” he began. He took a breath and continued, “I don’t want _them_ in my head. I want to be able to fuck you. Without going crazy…” Bucky scoffed self-deprecatingly. “I want my choice back, you know?” Bucky lifted his gaze back up to Steve.

“Yeah, Buck. I know.” Steve kissed his nose just to see him scrunch up his face again. “We’ll figure it out. Slowly, somehow, we will.”

“Thanks, Steve.” Bucky yawned against Steve’s chest, which in turn, made Steve yawn too.

“I love you, Buck.” Steve said through his yawn.

“I love you too.” Bucky replied, closing his eyes.

They both dozed off like that with the afternoon sun coming in through the window.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are my bread and water. Help me survive.


End file.
